


Mommy

by doomsdays



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Breastfeeding, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Mommy Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomsdays/pseuds/doomsdays
Summary: She can do this for him. She can give him the mother he’s been deprived of.
Relationships: Euphemia li Britannia/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	Mommy

**Author's Note:**

> Euphemia’s (canonical) crush on Lelouch is hot. They should have gotten married and had little babies.

Euphemia has always _been_ motherly. There were times when she was younger that she imagined what it would be like to be a mom, to feel her belly swell with a baby and her breasts grow heavy with milk. Her fantasy had always been _Lelouch_ , that beautiful older brother she’d been so enamored with as a child...the brother who, even after news of his death in Area 11 dashed her crush to bits, she still held out hope for.

And now he’s _here,_ wearing the garb of a criminal. Beneath the mask of a terrorist is that beloved brother’s face, the smooth roundness of childhood turned to harsh, handsome angles. He is strong and confident, full of big dreams and promises of grandeur but he seems so _sad_ , so lost and alone, burdened with the weight of the world. She can fix that, she thinks as she pulls him into an embrace that makes her heart flutter. 

He resists at first, tense as a feral cat but her hand trailing down his side to clasp his, lacing their fingers together makes him relax into it. He curls his arms around her just like he used to when they napped at Pendragon and Aries and all of the other places the three of them had spent time together in the homeland and presses his face into her neck, drinking in the smell of her perfume, the tickle of her hair, the softness of her skin. His breath is warm against her neck and it makes her shudder, makes her nipples poke at the soft inside of her dress’ bodice, makes her want him to _touch_ , makes her want to feel the warm exhales of his breath in other places.

Their kiss is not their first, but it is new all the same. She’s never been kissed like this. Never _kissed_ anyone like this, for she is as much a participant as Lelouch, parting her lips to the press of his tongue, feeling it drag against her own and raising up on her toes to get more of it. Lelouch makes a distinctly smug sound as she deepens the kiss, moaning softly as she presses her body to his, her softness and curves to the harsh angles of his body.

When she bares her breasts for him there’s nothing for Lelouch to _do_ but nuzzle into them, lose himself in the sweet smell of her perfume, the warmth of her skin...the way she lets out a softly surprised “oh!” when he mouths a kiss to the tender skin between them. His hands move to cup them with a surety that surprises and excites even himself, a desperation that feels as if it’s taken over him. This is Euphemia, this is the new apple of Suzaku’s eye and it’s _his_ sister and oh, how he burns with jealousy, how he wants to be the only one in Euphemia’s eyes as he had been years ago.

Her breasts are big and round and _perfect,_ smooth and creamy pale and Lelouch forgets what it’s like to have goals or a military force or be anything but helpless and small when he buries his face in her chest, forgets that she’s Suzaku’s princess and his own half-sister, knows only that she’s sweet and gentle; a perfect, soft foil to his own harshness.

“That’s okay, Lelouch...I know you miss your mother, and I know I’m just your sister -“ she says it sweetly, indulgent, cradling his face in her palm and guiding his mouth to her nipple. “But maybe if you get the chance to just relax for a while, you’ll feel better…just lay your head on my chest.”

She can do this, for him. She can give him the mother he’s been deprived of. She can do this, for herself…give herself the satisfaction of taking care of him, of feeling the sweet tug at her nipple, the wet warmth of his mouth as he suckles, of knowing that Lelouch still _needs_ her, maybe still wants to marry her like she and Nunnally had argued about years ago.

“Oh, Lelouch…” she croons, petting his hair as he...nurses? She supposes that’s what it is, nursing at her nipple just like a baby. Her breasts ache with need and there’s a pang that cuts straight to the core of her, one that makes her clench her thighs together against the onslaught of sensation. Her fingers run through his ebony strands slow and soothing, tucking it behind his ear so it doesn’t fall into his face as he nurses and selfishly, so she can see the blissful look on his face as he does it.

His eyes are shut, dark lashes heavy on his cheeks, lips fastened around her nipple. He’s so gentle about it, not in the least bit demanding or impatient as the motion of his suckling pulls at her over-sensitive nipple. God, she feels like she could really have milk, like it could burst into Lelouch’s tongue at any moment and she tilts her head back, swallowing back the grateful moan as she spreads her legs to accommodate Lelouch’s body between them. He leans against her, hand cupping the breast his mouth isn’t latched to. He seems so little like this, not the masked terrorist who killed their brother or the put-together student he has to be but something small and helpless that she wants to protect and indulge and _mother._

He mumbles “Euphemia” against her breast as the tears start to fall, slipping out of his closed lashes and dampening his cheek and her chest alike. Lelouch is very brave, she thinks, for shouldering this weight alone, for remaining bravely as Nunnally’s protector and she supposes, in a way, for standing firm in his beliefs as Zero...regardless of how wrong she may find his methods. How brave of Lelouch to express himself now, to let it out as he nurses, to whisper his troubles into her chest as his lips seek the nipple he hasn’t already been nursing on.

“It’s been so hard,” he sniffs, voice cracking as he latches on, breath hitching as he struggles to regain his composure. She holds him there tightly, desperately, with a hand tangled in his soft hair as the other rubs his back until his breath returns to normal and she feels the soft tug as he’s suckling again. Nursing _._ God, if she had a baby like she’s always dreamed, she could give this to him truly, could pull him against her and let her milk nourish his too-thin body as well as the baby. _Their baby?_

When Lelouch pulls back, he ducks his head so his face is buried in her neck, cheeks hot with shame. “Euphemia…” he starts, voice cracking as the tears start flowing anew. “I shouldn’t have -“

“I don’t mind, silly!” she chirps. Not minding is just about the understatement of the century, she thinks. She had _liked_ that, liked it so much that her cunt is so wet it _aches,_ that every tiny shift makes her panties rub against her and it feels like too much. She wants Lelouch’s slender fingers on her, wants his mouth between her legs, tongue licking inside of her the way he’d explored her mouth. 

Teasing, she adds: “Besides, you really seemed to like it!”

Lelouch is embarrassed. Time alone with his sister (barring their tense moments at Kawaguchi) and he spends it with his face in her tits, with his nipple in her mouth like he’s a _baby,_ nursing as he cried...dear god, what would the Black Knights say if they saw this? If they knew their leader fell apart when faced with his sister’s bare, beautiful chest? Not to mention Suzaku...what would Suzaku think if he saw his lady this way, tugging at Lelouch’s hair in pleasure as he suckled at her breast?

When he can bring himself to meet her gaze, he looks deep in Euphemia’s eyes. There’s nothing like shame or disdain or regret at what they’ve done, just _love_. It’s close to the same affection she’s always had, but it’s twisted somehow, become something that makes her look needy, become something that’s risen to the surface to meet Lelouch’s own need and hunger. Maybe this has always been brewing ever since they were children at Pendragon, since she and Nunnally had their childish arguments about who would marry Lelouch.

She's hot and wet beneath her skirt when Lelouch’s hand ventures under it, can feel dewy moisture beaded on her silky thighs and his fingers find wet lace when he touches between her legs. She’s happy about that, happy that her brother isn’t all take, take, take in selfish desire...that he’s willing to give, willing to see what his gentle suckling and the closeness of his body have done to her.

“Lelouch…” she whimpers, flinging her arms around his neck and pressing tightly against him, arching into the touch. It pushes her breasts against him, nipples brushing the harsh fabric of his jacket and making her cry out as his fingertip brushes over her clit through her panties. That brief touch, that shock of sensation makes her jerk, hips bucking into his touch and when she pulls back to look his eyes are wide and surprised. Beneath the shock, though, there is still hunger; his pupils are blown wide and lusty, making his violet eyes look black through and through. 

He answers her gasp of his name with a confident “Euphemia,” and his voice, so low and quietly confident, goes straight through her, feels like a touch between her legs just as real as his fingers. He lays his head on her chest, pressing a soft kiss to the swell of her breast as his fingers press further. He slides the panties out of the way and slides a finger against her, rubbing over her opening before his fingertip finds her clit. 

“Yes, Lelouch, just like that,” she encourages when he hesitates, praising him sweetly just like a mother might. His finger spreads her slick folds before it dips inside and it’s nothing and everything all at once, so sweetly fulfilling just to have that one slender finger and yet somehow just not _enough_. She wonders if she should tell him _good boy_ , should tell him how wonderful he is, how proud _she_ is but she holds back, simply gasps as another finger slips inside to join the first. “Oooh, yes! I want you, Lelouch...and you want me too, don’t you? That’s why you’re so hard...you want to suck on these and put that in me!”

“We can’t,” Lelouch groans even as he’s clambering on top of her, cock rubbing against the inside of her thigh. She can feel it leaking against her, can feel the urgent hardness of him, the way it calls out to somewhere deep inside of her. Maybe she’s a bad mother figure, she supposes, if she wants her brother to fuck her as bad as she does...but she wants it just the same. Wants to take him in her hand and guide him in, wants to feel his mouth on her nipples again as he fucks into her. Desperate, needy...she can already imagine how he’s going to moan when he slides inside.

“Euphemia, we can’t,” he mumbles, but his mouth is on her breasts again, tongue flicking at her nipples to tease before he fastens his lips around one again, suckling softly as her legs clutch around his waist and she arches against him. Sighing, she slides her hands up around his neck, beckoning him down against her. Lelouch meets her desperation with a fierce hunger, mouth releasing her nipple with a soft, wet sound before nuzzling between her breasts like an affectionate little kitty seeking affection. He transfers his attention to the other as he thrusts against her, inelegant and inexperienced but it’s all she wants, all she _needs_ to feel the hardness of his cock against her slit, the way the head of it catches against her as she rocks against him.

It’s not that they _can’t_ , it’s that they _shouldn’t_ but oh god, she wants to. She wants to have Lelouch’s baby, wants to feel her belly grow fat and round and her tits weigh heavy with milk, wants to nurse Lelouch on one breast and the baby on the other. It’s that thought, a harmless fantasy, that makes her shake with the force of her orgasm, Lelouch’s fingers a perfect rhythm on her clit as he grinds awkwardly against her, mouth busy on her breasts. 

She hopes he feels better now, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t do it just as much for herself.


End file.
